She’d lived with Timothy’s loss for so long, buried herself in the love they’d once shared, and known she’d never recover. Marrying Devlin for security was one thing. Allowing him the affection she’d always associated with Timothy was quite another.
Except, the feelings Devlin stirred in her heart were real. It would be cowardly and unfair to them both if she tried to ignore them. He was her husband, her fondest companion, the pillar of strength she’d leaned on when she had been lost and afraid. But when he’d needed her to offer assurance and the forgiveness he deserved, she’d threatened to leave him.
The words had been spoken in pain and anger. It was past time she took them back and told Devlin he wasn’t to blame for Timothy’s death any more than she was. She had to help him, and she needed to let him know that he hadn’t lost her.
“It’s not easy, you know,” a deep voice spoke.
Cassandra turned and located Mr. Quinn. He was standing just two feet away. “What isn’t?”
“Captaining a ship. Being responsible for a crew of four hundred and eighty.” He stepped up beside her and rested one hand on the railing. The wind caught his hair, whipping a few stray locks to one side. “Your husband’s only ever lost one. Has he told you about him?”
“The boy who fell from the mast?”
“Mm… Devlin was quite determined to save Luke although it was clear to everyone else there was nothing to do.” Mr. Quinn’s eyes were shadowed by darkness, yet there was no ignoring the intensity of his gaze.
“He told me the ship’s physician had gone ashore the previous day when they passed Dover.”
“That’s right.”
Cassandra waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she had to ask, “Then what did he do?” Because this was Devlin they were discussing. No matter how bleak the situation, he would have striven to save that boy’s life. Good lord. Had he not told her he’d broken his arm attempting to catch him? How on earth could she have forgotten that?
“He put me in a carriage and ordered the driver to take me to St. George’s hospital. My mission was to fetch Mr. Mallory, one of London’s greatest physicians, back to the ship as swiftly as possible.”
“St. George’s,” she muttered. “Formerly known as Lanesborough House. It’s on Hyde Park Corner.” She didn’t have to say more to know what this meant. Devlin had sent Mr. Quinn by carriage to fetch the only man he believed might be able to save Luke’s life. And in order to get there, they’d had to pass through St. James’s. It was the shortest route.
Cassandra blinked. Devlin had told her about the accident, he’d even mentioned the order he’d given Quinn, but she hadn’t realized this happened the same day Timothy died – that he’d been struck by the very carriage intended to ensure Luke’s survival. Devlin hadn’t explained it, preventing her from making the necessary connection.
“Why wouldn’t he tell me this?”
Mr. Quinn grunted. “It’s not his style. Making excuses.”
Maybe not, but it did give Cassandra additional solace, knowing he’d not merely issued an aimless command. Although, she reflected, she should have realized this, regardless. Devlin never acted unnecessarily.
“My point is—”
“He’s no more at fault than I was, insisting we had to get married in that exact church.” Her fingers tightened around her glass. Was this why she’d been so stuck in the past? Because she blamed herself? She hadn’t considered it a possibility until she’d spoken the words.
“Perhaps you should tell him.”
“I know I should.” A sudden gust of wind dislodged her footing. She caught the railing to steady herself, causing her sherry to slosh over the side of her glass. “I’ve been meaning to do so for several days.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Even without considering the reason why the carriage was where it was on that particular day, I knew it was wrong to blame Devlin. It was just easier I suppose, than having to face the alternative.”
Mr. Quinn nodded. “He’s lucky to have you.”
She snorted. “He thinks I’m planning to leave him at Cape Town and go back to London.”
“But you won’t?”
“No. I’m staying. No matter what.”
The deck rose at a sharper angle as a much higher wave lifted the ship. “I think you need to go back to your cabin,” Mr. Quinn told her gravely. “It appears a storm may be starting and the last place you’ll want to be during that is somewhere out here.”
“All right.” She wasn’t foolish enough to ignore good advice. Just foolish enough not to recognize her husband’s innocence or to acknowledge her feelings for him, even when the truth stared her straight in the face. She wished Mr. Quinn a good night and moved past him.
“If you’ll recall,” he told her right before she reached the ladder, “I’m also married. Trusting another person with your heart is a frightening thing to do, Mrs. Crawford. But the reward is, in my opinion at least, worth it.”
